The gazette-times., August 20, 1914, HOME AND FARM MAGAZINE SECTION, Page 14, Image 20

14
HOME AND FARlf MAGAZINE SECTION"
From The Putting Green
DETECTIVE STORY
RUSSELL E. SMITH
CUSTOMS INSPECTOR BBOWN
slammed down the lid of his desk
at the San Barco custom house
building and rattled the windows of his
Office, as well as the nerves of Investi
gator Bronson, who stood up as his
duel turned to him and snapped:
"hxeuses don't eo! You've been
after those opium smugglers operating
round here for months, and you
oaven t got a line on a single one. You
suspected that Carson feller, but you
kaven'J got anything on him, have
your-
"But, Chief," protested Bronson, his
unned face reddening as he spoke.
"you know as well as I do that we are
morally certain that he is responsible
for the carrying into this country, and
Mrougn this very place, a small but
Certain amount of opium everv day.
We've seen him with the Chinks, and
at the places we found some of he
stuff cached, and "
The Chief spoke hastily and irritably
as ne reached lor his coat and started
ot the door, followed by his sub
ordinate.
"But you haven't connected him
with it, and Washington is raising hell
about it! He's the man we want, all
tight, and it's up to you to hang it on
him and to find out how he does it. So
long!"
"And say" he turned back an in
stant I suppose you know that if
you don't get this feller you'U be an
swering want ads one of these days,
aon't youT"
Then he hurried off, leaving Bronson
standing on the curb with an anxious
look in his eye. He had never failed
to make good before, and it was hard
to be made to realize that this time he
had failed, and that the department
would Jet nun go, as they did all fail
ures. But soon his eyes hardended and
glinted, and his mouth took on a firmer
line, as he gritted to himself:
"I'll get him or quit, I gness," he
added, and swung off, turning over to
himself plans whereby he might "get
aie goods" on Carson.
The latter was a mysterious person
age of he city who dealt ostensibly in
fruit, but who for a long time had been
suspected of smuggling opium into the
United states from across the Mexican
line.
But shadowines innumerable had
failed to show any proof of it. Several
times a sloop had been seen to glido by
the cove at the international boundary,
but though the line was guarded, every
foot of it, nothing was ever seen to get
by without a thorough search, a search
that so far had resulted in absolutely
kb trace of any contraband goods.
Carson had been shadowed a thousand
times, but nothing suspicious had ever
been discovered except his foregather
ing with certain Chinese merchants.
Though this might be explained by
his fruit busiiess dealings, Bronson and
his chief suspected other deals, but no
proof was forthcoming and the opium
kept coming in from somewhere.
"And I'm going to find out where,
too!" grunted Bronson. "Guess I'll
take a look at Carson's place over the
line again."
Carson, it seemed, owned a large
rancho just . cross the boundary in Mex
ico, and while Bronson had snooped
around several times in the guise of a
laborer seeking work on the ranch, ie
had seen nothing unusual about Carson
except that he seemed to be a golf
maniac.
Bronson then lost all respect for Car
son, for be considered golf a game that
ranked with croquet and bean bags.
Surely a man who would waste his time
driving a foolish little ball about with
a still more foolishly shaped steel club
could not be much of an adversary.
But he still had a "huneh" that the
secret of the smuggling lay in the keep
ing of Carson, and determined not to
lose sight of that gentleman until the
secret was tolved and his job in the
service safe once more.
Careful inquiry revealed the fact that
Carson was out at this ranch again, and
late the next afternoon a ragged, un
kempt young man appeared at the
rancho and asked for work.
It was Bronson, and the customs man
was lucky enough to secure a job help
ing about the yards and grounds of the
big ranch House.
Here, bright and early next morning,
he saw Carson start off on his nrorning
golfing tour with his caddy, an old
Mexican who did not look as though ba
would be able to travel very far with'
out carrying, his face a perfect match
in color and texture with the golf bag
ne carried.
Under Carson's arm was snugly en
sconced a new box of golf balls.
"Always he lost so many," remarked
the gardener under whom Bronson was
at work raking the leaves and twigs
from the carefully kept lawn on one
end of which was raised a tee, from
which Bronson 's golf links stretched
away. "Ah, Santa Maria I And they
cost almost uno peso each! Such waste
of money! " sighed the old man, who
made less than that every day he
worked,
Bronson was watching Carson nar
rowly from under his tattered straw
hat, and did not reply. A red flag flut
tered away off to the east, and the
links ran, green aad undulating, broken
hero and there by bunkers and spaces of
rough hillocks right by the side of the
boundary line.
Bronson watched, his lips curling, as
he saw Carson tee his first ball and
with a long sweeping blow send the
white globule careening across the
greensward and bunkers. But the driver
in the hands of Carson side swiped the
ball and instead of sailing toward the
first hole flag, just in sight over the
near-by hills, it soared to one side and
in a long curving parabola, swung out
of sight across the barren hillsides out
side the links, and across the interna
tional boundary,
The ancient caddie gazed after it in
despair as though in fear lest he should
have to stir his superannuated stumps
in a search for the lost ball.
But Carson gruffly called, "Never
mind! Let it go!" and culled anothor
from the box that Bronson noted he
did not allow the aged Mexican to
carry, and set it upon the remade tee
and procoeded to "slice the ball"
once more, ana oil it sailed out of
sight on the barren hills across the
line. '
Thrice and again and still again did
Carson repeat the performance, while
Bronson, watching as he raked, grew
disgusted with the apparent poor work
of the golfer, who appeared nowise
disheartened at his failure to send the
ball where it should go, but kept on
trying.
Finally he hit it right, and away sped
the ball in a graceful flight, this time
toward the first hole, and Carson strode
away on his tour.
"Always the same," muttered the
old gardener by his side, "always the
same. Ever' morning he lose one two
free ball all the time. Such waste
of good money!" lie groaned as he
thought of all the mescal and frijoles
that he saw go flying across the hill
every day in the form of golf balls.
"An' he does not worry not him,"
he dolefully went on to Bronson, who,
wondering how he could ever hope to
discover anything here, still listened
with half an ear. "Much money has
he got so he don't even go look for
them. Hundreds has be lost, and he
does never seem to play any better.
Even I, Yegoine, could play the silly
game betterl "
And off he puttered about his work,
while Bronson continued raking In a
desultory fashion, his mind always upon
his problem, driving it toward a possible
solution of the mystery.
The next day, and the next after
that, Bronson worked in the yard, and
each time he saw Carson stroll languid
ly out to the tee and proceed to drive
ball after ball, slicing every one with
his driver, and causing it to sail far off
to one side of the green links.
"Well, if I couldn't play any bettci
than that," thought Bronson, "I'd
quit! Why, he loses enough balls to
more than pay my salary!"
And his face sank as ho thought that
maybe he wouldn't get any more salary
from the government it he didn't make
good this time.
"I know that stuff comes from this
side of the line," be said to himself,
"and I'll bet Carson is in on it but!
how in Tophet can I prove it I"
That evening, seated in a eorner of
the common house assigned to the labor
ers on the ranch, Bronson overheard a
snatch of conversation that set him
thinking puzzled him somewhat And
when Bronson was puzzled he usually
got busy and ferreted out that which
caused his puzzlement.
"What the boss spends for his bloom
in' golf balls he loses every day would
bloomin' well pay as better wages.
growled a young Englishman, assistant
to the chef, who had drifted sonth of
the line in search of work.
"fan!" snapped a Mexican. "He
not even cares, and will not let Alessan-
dro go hunt for them. " .
"Why don't you go hunt them np
some night and sell 'emt" queried the
Englishman. "My wordl There must
be lots of them over there across the
line the bloomin' ground must look
like snow from 'emt"
The young Mexican grinned.
"No one night I go look, and what
you thinkf A Chinaman farmer over
near there he get them all every one!
One night I see him with large basket."
And he groaned as ha thought of the
rieh mine of golf balls plundered by
(he unknown, wily Celestial
Bronson, as he listened, found his
mind following strange channels of
thought A mine of golf balls gathered
by a Chink in the dead of night! And
tbey all earns from Carson I
Bronson lost no time. Yawning, he
slowly passed out into the evening quiet
and slipped around a eorner of the house
and set out across the fields toward the
boundary line.
After a rather long tramp he eame
to the line, silently slipped across, and
soon after spied a tiny light flashing
along the ground.
Our Chinese friend, no doubt," he
thought, "oat picking golf balls for
market!"
Sneaking quietly along he got very
close to the Chinaman, who earned a
large basket along on his back and a
tiny lantern in one hand, while he
swept the ground carefully from side
to side.
Bronson watched him a long time and
saw that he worked along in a regular
line, up and down the hill systematical
ly, every now and again stooping to
pick up an object from the ground,
which he stowed away in a capacious
pocket ,of his blouse.
Bronson pressed forward and stepped
on something hard and round which
rolled under his weight and almost pre
cipitated him to the earth.
He reached down and found a white
golf ball!- Next it laid another, which
he pocketed. When he looked up again
the midnight prowler with the light
was gone, frightened away no doubt
by the noise made as Bronson stumbled.
"nuh!" the investigator mumbled.
"ne got away terribly sudden. Won
der what "
He left his question unuttered and
retraced his steps back to the ranch,
his booty tucked away in his clothing.
Hiding in a stall of the horse barn he
examined one of his finds with care and
found that it seemed just like any other
golf ball, although in truth be had never
handled any before at all.
Poising it in his hand, he mused over
it, weighing it carefully, and idly start
ed cutting a bit oat of it His knife
cut hard at frst, bnt soon sank easily
into a soft mass in its center.
Pulling out the blade, hs put the
sticky blade to his nose and almost
yelled out loud in his joy.
The smell that arose from the keen
blade, low covered with a Btieky sub
stance, was the unmistakable one of tha
poppy.
Bronson almost reeled with the shock
of finding his suspicions verified, but
soon recovered his usual coolness of
action. He must be sure, and the only
way to be sure was to get hold of one
of the new golf balls that Carson
carried to the links each morning. The
otheT ball he did not cut open, bat
slipped it whore he could reach it easily,
for he already had a plan.
The next day he clumsily allowed his
rake to fall against the shins of Car
son as that gentleman hastened to his
links and his favorite morning exer
cise, The rake tripped him, and the
box of golf balls foil and rolled all over
the green.
Hastening, with many abject apol
ogies, Bronson picked them all up with
the assistance of Carson and put them
all back in the box all but one, which
he palmed and for whieh he exchanged
one of the balls he had picked up across
the line. That night found him back in
San Barco and at the home of his chief.
"Well, Bronson found another job
yett" heavily joked his chief, surprised y
at Bronson '$ sudden appearance.
When have you been the last few
days!"
"Collecting golf balls," replied his
young assistant, as he smiled back.
The Chief stared,
"Well," he snapped, "find any
thingt"
Bronson pulled two golf balls ont of
his pocket' and placed them both on the
table before him.
" Where 'd you get those things t" the
chief asked.
"This one," said Bronson, catting it
open, "I found across the line from
Carson's golf links. Smell!" And he
poked his knife blade under the snub
nose of the chief, who nearly fainted
as he recognized the odor,
"Good Lord I" he breathed.
Bronson was holding np another ease.
"That one I got out of Carson's box
of new golf balls this morning," he
ealmly announced, while the cnieil
eyes almost popped ont of his head, as
hs got a whiff of it into his trembling
nostrils.
"My boy," he said, reaching for his
subordinate's hand, "it's the best yet
bat how"
He drove them across the line with
his dinky golf clubs, right under my
nose," said Bronson ealmly.
"Can you beat it! Can you tie nun I "
was ail tne cruoi couia uuer m mm
amazement
Carson's golfing soon came to an end.
and the next time he came over the
line to attend to his business Bronson
met him on the street, and stepping up
to him, calmly asked:
"Want to buy any goll balls T"
Carson stopped and suspiciously
peered at Bronson.
"Well, I might WnyT"
"Just thought I might sell you some,
that's all," said Bronson. "I found a
lot of pretty good ones just across from
your ranch the other night Wanter
buy!" He opened his coat just suffi
ciently to show a gold custom inspec
tor badge on the inside of it.
Carson's face grew green, and he al
most dropped, but he ealmly followed
Bronson to the custom house, where hs
was soon persuaded that golfing, even
on one's own grounds, and losing golf
balls freighted with opium, on Undo
Sam's domain, was a dangerous and ex-
pensive pastime.
But it took Carson several years in
the federal penitentiary, along with his
Chinese confederates, to discover how
expensive it was.
Bronson doesn't need to look at the
want columns any more now, ,
tow, w itinminn
I
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